


Grinding Rep: For the Horde!

by drowsyfantasy



Series: Grinding Rep [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, F/M, Humor, Multi, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, POV reader, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowsyfantasy/pseuds/drowsyfantasy
Summary: After realizing you have to earn Exalted with these factions, you figure there just HAS to be an easier way to grind...and then it hits you. Consider this as an A/U in the Grinding Rep series (and not a direct sequel).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Your beautiful Nightborne wife is heavily inspired/influenced by this comic, done by the amazing Mipeltaja. Go see it here: http://mipeltaja-art.tumblr.com/post/170447203195/she-has-adjusted

It’s at times like this when you really appreciate all the hard work you’ve put in to this relationship. 

It’s hard to imagine life without her, but she’s such a recent addition to your roster of champions that you still feel that little jolt of nervous, excited energy in your chest when you see her in your bed. 

She’s beautiful - her skin is a beautiful shade of blue-green, somewhere between viridian and sea green. Her long, graceful ears are pierced and delicate against the dark brown pillows in your bed, and her white hair makes a stark contrast to all the dark reds and blacks in your bedroom. 

Her iridescent tattoos are like pearl in the light streaming from the window, and she glows like an angel as she rolls over and nuzzles in closer to you. Your green skin is much lighter than hers, but everyone says you two make an adorable couple. 

You’ve caught her at a good moment, because she opens her eyes and smiles sleepily at you. 

“Hey, you,” you kiss her cheek, and she brings a hand up to wrap lazily around your waist. 

“Hey, yourself,” she purrs back, in her elegant Nightborne voice. You are  _ so  _ lucky she chose you when she first arrived in Orgrimmar. Of all the powerful, strong Orc warriors, she found  _ you  _ the most enticing. “Good morning.” 

“Mmm, it is now…” you purr, and kiss up her throat. She giggles, hiking a lean, yet well-muscled leg over your thigh, and as you slip your hand down between her legs -  _ gods, she’s so wet already...was she dreaming about you, about this?  _ \- she takes a soft breath. 

“Y-you never finished telling me...last night.” her breath is light, airy, playful - teasing. “About all your amazing adventures…” 

You never knew the Shal’dorei could possibly be so kinky, but then again, they  _ had  _ been cooped up for over ten thousand years with nothing to do but experiment. It’s amazing your lover cares for vanilla sex at all at this point! 

“Well then...shall we continue?” you grin, as you slide a thick finger deep into her slick pussy and watch her face rise into pleasure - her eyes shut, her mouth open, her cheeks flushing deeply. 

“Yes - oh, yes!”

\--

When you were born, your parents were so proud. Your mother especially. Another proud orc daughter to carry on the family tradition of warriors, noble and honourable. 

Of course, growing up, you went a little on your own path. Noble? Sure. Honourable? Absolutely. 

Horny as fuck? Oh, that too. 

Some people thought it was a little strange for you to be so forward, but they didn’t deserve you, and they certainly didn’t manage to keep your attention for long. Orgrimmar was full of people coming and going from many races and peoples, and there were just so many attractive men and women and whatevers that you just couldn’t  _ wait  _ to get out there and experience  _ everything  _ for yourself. 

Your first stop, however, would be to gain favour with your own faction. Sure you’d won competitions, and you’d already attracted the eye of Saurfang. 

You had no interest in Warchief Thrall. While he seemed to respect you as a warrior, he was busy doing his own thing. But Varok Saurfang, a blooded warrior, seemed to push you harder, challenge you more often, and when he clapped his hand on your shoulder after seeing you the victor of a sparring match, his touch lingered. 

You had heard about his son. You didn’t know much about his mate, only that you had never seen her, never known who she might have been. The way you met his eyes and grinned back at him, your fanged smile, proud - you would never want to disrespect his love. 

He seemed to understand that, and yet he persisted.

\--

“Another victory!” you raise your sword in triumph as your combat partner slumps, crumpled up, at your feet. This brief time of peace after the fall of the Lich King has had people scrambling to train new warriors, new fighters of every class and race, to ensure the next struggle for survival would not end in such a massacre. So it is that most, if not all, training sessions are no longer to the death, and instead, a sign that the loser - considering how badly beaten he or she might be - to choose another path, to find where they fit best. 

“Excellent work today.” the familiar voice of Varok Saurfang floats towards you, and his voice, though low and growling, sounds sweetest to your ears. “How many is that in a row?” 

“I am undefeated this month,” you boast, turning to him and clapping your fist over your chest. It’s a bit prideful, but you’re riding high off your adrenaline rush and feeling a bit over-confident. It proves to be your undoing as he chuckles, then proceeds to sweep his weapon behind the backs of your knees. 

You make an embarrassingly high-pitched noise as you collapse into the muddied sparring grounds, and the rest of the crowd roars with laughter. Sheepishness turns your cheeks and ears slightly red as he helps you back up to your feet, and he doesn’t let go of your hand. 

“I deserved that.” 

“Yes, you did.” he replies, cheeky, and draws you a bit closer. You’re sweating, chest still heaving from all the heavy breathing during the fight, your full plate armour now covered in muck as well as your opponent’s sweat and blood. He scrunches up his face. “Foul. Come. You need a wash.” 

It’s as good an excuse as any, and you troop off after him, following him past the Hold, past the guards, past the officials milling about and talking, making plans for building more settlements and expanding once more through the southern areas of Kalimdor. 

By the time you’ve made it out, the afternoon sun is sinking low, and the waterfalls outside Orgrimmar are quiet and peaceful. Both of you begin removing your armour in an almost ritualistic way, washing it of the grime of the day and setting them to one side to dry. 

Left in only your protective under-gear, you stand beneath the pounding water, feeling it pushing down on your head and shoulders, but manage to stand firm, upright, solid. It’s cold though, and you shiver a little, before feeling warm hands slide onto your shoulders under the spray. 

When you open your eyes, Saurfang is before you, contemplative and curious. 

“You look at me when you think I can’t see you,” you say, and the waterfall is deafening but somehow he hears you. “I like it when you look at me.” 

There’s a cave behind the waterfalls, a series of tunnels, a network of hiding places. Each one of you pulls the other through the water and into the echoing cavern, slippery with backwash and the roaring in your ears can’t be only water, with the way your heart is pounding in your chest. 

Saurfang has always been strong and commanding in your eyes. All the others you’ve fumbled with in your days seem foolish and impatient compared to the way he finishes undressing you and kissing down your body. Orc fangs are sharp - not so sharp as elfin teeth, but still dangerous - and you can’t feel them even a tiny bit as he sucks at your nipples, clearly practised, clearly determined to make this good. 

The mist from the waterfalls is cold, but his mouth is hot, so hot, and the way he goes down on you just makes you squirm. Your hands tangle in his hair as he uses his teeth on your inner thighs, leaving marks that will make you walk funny for  _ days  _ before finally turning his hot tongue on your aching pussy. He’s ridiculously good at this, and the stars you’re seeing aren’t just from where your head banged back against the floor from the sensation of his mouth on you. 

By the time he’s moved again, you’ve been pushed to the edge and driven back so many times that you’re nearly frothing at the mouth, angry with desire, needing more. He’s a master of keeping you on the very precipice of orgasm but not letting you finish, and the sensation of his thick cock gliding effortlessly into your soaked and readied pussy just makes you moan and arch up from the cavern floor with reckless abandon. 

He fucks like a warrior - fast and hard and deep, one hand in a fist beside your head as he keeps the other on your breast, driving into you with feral, animal, guttural noises of male pleasure like the rutting of some wild thing. You press up against him, legs around his waist, finally able to properly chase the the climax he’d been denying you, and when it comes - it completely wrecks you, making you seize like a clenched fist as every muscle pulses, pleasure flooding your body and leaving you a panting, sweaty mess on the wet floor. 

Saurfang doesn’t take too much longer to finish - clearly he’d been close too, and he holds you with a surprising tenderness for a while. 

When it’s over - when it’s  _ really  _ over - you both sit up for a while, then wash under the waterfall before gathering your under-clothes and dressing again. Your armour has almost fully dried by now, and the stars light the path back to the city, red dust under an incredible sky. 

He clasps your shoulder and smiles proudly before descending into the Hold, and you sit on a high ledge for a while and watch the thin wisps of clouds moving. 

Your adventure begins tomorrow, but tonight...tonight was a good send-off. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Quel’thelas takes your breath away.

You decided to begin your journeys with the furthest-away place you could reach, and slowly make your way back home. It made the most sense at the time, and still feels like the right decision. You’ll begin at the top of the Eastern Kingdoms and work your way south, then back from the southern tip of Kalimdor and up towards your homeland again.

Right now, though, you have to sit in a small valley and watch the leaves dancing on the wind around you.

Quel’thelas is every colour, but mostly reds and golds. It is not the red of the deserts of Kalimdor, not the red of the Horde. It is a different red altogether. One that speaks of ancient, noble pasts and proud, bold future. The breeze blows through the trees and you swear you can hear wind chimes from somewhere off in the distance, yet in every direction. This place _breathes_ magic and music.

Heading back to the path, you continue to walk towards the gates of Silvermoon city. Occasionally you can see Ranger-mounted hawkstriders darting back and forth over a darkened area. That must be the scar, the tainted area from the attack by Arthas, the Lich King. He was so recently killed, but this was further back, when the Sunwell was first corrupted. The elves of the area still bear the mark of their magical addiction; green-glowing eyes, and bitter words on their lips. _Remember the Sunwell_. How could anyone forget such a monstrosity of terrorism? Even though the city and society is slowly starting to rebuild, they are still wary of outsiders, and coming up through the Ghostlands, you could see why.

It made you shudder at the loss of life and the horrors of plague.

You’re not alone by the time you get to the gates. There’s a merchant with a carriage, talking to one of the guards, and the guard is eagerly checking out some of his wares. Perhaps there’s a bribe going on, or maybe he’s just new. With a smile, you look at the hanging plants, amused at their bobbing in place. Is _everything_ around here enchanted, or do they just feel like showing off? It’s impressive, in any case, and there’s a young woman spread out on a bench, napping. Her spellbook is open over her stomach, and another on the ground below her delicately-manicured hand. Obviously a student, and you smile as you pick up the book and tuck it beside her. She wrinkles up her little nose and rolls over, curling around her literature as you pass through the gates.

The tall, imposing figure of Kael’thas Sunstrider glowers down at you as you walk around him, and his eyes seem to follow you. It’s either enchantment again, or merely an illusion, because for all his power, he’s still made of stone, and the guards merely acknowledge you with polite, if swift, nods, before you pass into the city proper.

It’s not as full as Orgrimmar, but it’s still alive, still bustling, especially now at mid-day when people are out in the marketplace, getting food and enjoying the sunshine. There are only a few children laughing and running around after their parents, but it still feels like the city is alive, rather than dead, as one of your friends had tried to claim.

You can see maybe two orcs, other than yourself, and _nobody_ is speaking Orcish. They shouldn’t _have_ to, as most people here are natural Thalassian-speakers, but it _does_ leave you feeling a little embarrassed to not know as much as you could.

Still, you’re hungry enough to try. “ _Hello, I buy this_?” you try, in your basic knowledge as you pick up a pre-made sandwich of bread, cheese, and meat from a vendor’s stand.

The elf looks down his long nose at you and gives you a withering glare.

“Twelve silver.” he replies in guttural Orcish, not even bothering to try and answer you in his own language.

Wincing, you fish out the silver pieces from your coin-purse and hand them over. _That’s expensive for a sandwich,_ you think to yourself, but he probably just charged you whatever he wanted because you’re not an elf.

He drops the coins in his coffer and turns his back to you, apparently too busy to even see you off. You pick up the sandwich and turn, looking for an open place to sit. There’s space by the fountain, so you trot over and settle in the cool spray. It’s definitely warm up here, a different sort of warmth than Durotar, and you enjoy the breeze and water from the fountain.

You enjoy your lunch as you watch the city go by. Eventually, people go inside their buildings again and the square clears of people. Despite the fact that it’s still early afternoon, more of them have gone home, or back to work. You hop down from the fountain and set about exploring again.

The court of the sun opens up to you after the walk through Murder Row, and Sunfury Spire towers off into the clear, blue sky. More fountains break a fine mist on you as you head upward. There’s two rows of guards, but nobody bothers you as you head inside.

What hits you first is the smell of sweet perfume, and the noise of students grumbling. You poke your head in to witness a young woman be turned into a giraffe, and then a sheep, and then a lynx, all in quick succession, before back into herself and slapping the male student who cowered before her. She yells at him in Thalassian, her cheeks and the tips of her ears red with indignant rage, and you duck out before she notices you.

Backing up the corridor, you stumble into an open room with three tall, imposing men discussing something in quick, clipped Thalassian. There’s a few guards moving around, but nobody seems really worried. No one seems to have noticed you yet, and you spot an open doorway at the back of the room. Curious, you try and edge past the leadership of the elven city, to see what lies behind door number one.

“May we help you?” drawls a sarcastic voice in Orcish. Drat. You’ve been caught. Sheepishly, you turn and offer them a weak smile.

“ _Hello. I visit. I learn!_ ” you attempt in Thalassian. The dark-haired one, the one who addressed you first, looks unimpressed, but the other two look pleased, at least, for your attempt, however bastardized your pronunciation is.

“ _Welcome to Silvermoon,_ ” the one with his hair swept up in a high horse-tail gestures with an arm. “ _I am Lor’themar Theron, regent-lord. This is Halduron, and this_ sand-lizard _is Rommath_.”

You burst out laughing at his sudden switch to Orcish. Had he really meant that? The word for the common reptile in Durotar also means a nuisance, a pest, so perhaps he understands colloquialisms better than his counterparts. “ _Thank you!_ ” at this point, though, you’ve pretty much exhausted your range of Thalassian, and are forced to switch back. “It’s good to meet you. I’m sorry if I interrupted anything, I was interested in that.” you gesture at the open doorway. “I’ve never been to Silvermoon before, and I’ve been exploring all day.”

“There’s not much back there,” Lor’themar shakes his head, as the other two begin talking again, heading for the front corridor and a door that had been locked to you. “It’s accessible to you, if you want, but not many use it. Up the spiral staircase is a translocation orb which will take you to the ruins of Lordaeron, above the entrance to the Undercity.”

“You mean I could’ve done that instead of spending hours flying here?” your jaw drops, and Lor’themar stifles a chuckle with his sleeve politely.

“Well, yes, but then you might not have gotten the full experience of Quel’thelas.” he grins. His Orcish sounds noble, accented in a way you’ve never heard before, but his grasp of the language is impeccable, and you feel a little bad for letting him down. You could’ve taken the time to learn more, after all!

“I’m glad I went the long way, then.” you nod. “It’s absolutely beautiful out there. I felt like I was walking through a beautiful painting.”

“It’s still very much alive. We are all still very much alive here, despite the Scourge’s attempts to wipe us out completely.” he comes over to you, and despite orcs being a taller race, it still feels like you’re looking up and up at him.

Then again, it could just be the hair.

“I’ve been here since midday,” you nod, “just finished having lunch in the bazaar. I haven’t seen much of the city yet. What would you recommend?”

“Why don’t I give you a guided tour?” he smiles warmly, placing a large, yet delicately-manicured hand on your shoulder. _Nice_. “The full, proper experience, after all, can only come with someone who can translate for you.”

You grin ruefully. “ _Sorry_ ,” you manage. He just laughs and sweeps out of the hall, nodding for you to follow. Lor’themar extends his arm, gentlemanly, and you take it, and he begins to walk with you through the public streets.

The two of you walk all over the city, and then out into the woods, and then past the woods, and into the fields. Clouds are approaching by the time you make it to the shrine of Dath’Remar, the rain is starting to fall. You barely have enough time to quickly have the dedication translated for you, before the two of you have to run into a nearby thicket of trees to avoid the pouring rain. You and Lor’themar stand beneath the whistling branches and watch the storm arrive.

“A lot of rain here?” you inquire, as you move back from the edge. The trees are close together here, in this grove, making walls and a natural ceiling. It also stops the cold breeze of pouring rain. “We could do with it over in Kalimdor.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t move the skies,” he chuckles, settling down with you with his back to the tree. “Ahh, this reminds me of my younger days...I was ranger-lord, you know; thrust into politics with the death of Prince Kael’thas. All this finery...some days it’s all right, but most days, it doesn’t suit me.”

“You want to run and tumble through the muck out here and ride a hawkstrider and live in a tree?” you tease, and he laughs, and it sounds like the pealing of bells.

“Some days, I do.”  he looks at you with his one good eye, a mischievous smile on his face. “Some days, destroying this beautiful outfit would be worth it.”

“Or mess up that precious hair of yours.”

His eye goes wide and the tips of his ears go red, and he acts like he’s angry, but maybe it’s something else. “Hair like this does not just happen! It requires constant attention!” he protests.

With a wicked grin, you reach up and wrap your hand around the tail of it, just on the opposite side of the bindings from his head, and give it a good _yank_.

Lor’themar screeches and buckles under your grip, but the squirming he does as you laugh and tug him down to the ground is completely ruined by the _massive_ sudden bulge in his trousers. “You like that. Don’t you.” you tease, pulling his face towards yours. He looks dazed, his jaw slack, his green eye hazy and pupil dilated with pleasure.

He surges towards you, kissing hard and fast and deep, seeming to find himself again, and as you let go of his hair and go for his clothes, he goes for yours, effortlessly unbuckling plate and snapping off bindings, finally kissing down your naked neck as you kick off your boots and pry his leggings off of him.

Orc and elf bodies are built differently, but because of his ranger life, you’re about the same in terms of muscle, and the next few minutes are spent wrestling naked, flipping one another over, trying to assert some dominance, both playful and serious, full of lust and need. Lor’themar finally ends up on top, and you let him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and _yanking_ again. He whines pathetically, hips jerking uselessly against your thigh, before you take pity on him and reach down for his cock.

Both of you spend about ten seconds adjusting before he starts thrusting, and _fuck_ it feels good. The frantic snap of his hips against yours, burying himself as deep as he can, while his hands are on you and against the ground, torn up beneath you. At least it’s not raining on top of you to turn the place to mud, but it’s near about it with the amount of sweat coming off the two of you.

You get one leg up around his hips and he slides down, and it changes the angle and you’re seeing stars, explosions behind your eyelids at the pleasure, growling and humping up against him. You haven’t yet let go of his hair again, and Lor’themar bites against your shoulder, crying out against you as he keeps fucking you, fast and mindless and animal.

Lor’themar says something, but you can’t understand it, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s talking in Thalassian, or if his teeth are buried in your shoulder, or you’re too out of your mind with pleasure to understand, but suddenly you feel his cock pulse inside you, feel the sensation of hot cum filling you up, and it’s too much as he moans, and you’re coming too, squeezing around him, holding him tight to you, gasping in the evening air.

He’s rolled off you by now, and you’re still naked, still an utter mess, but content. He’s teaching you Thalassian as you watch the stars come out, one by one, outside of the grove of trees, now that the clouds have gone. He sings to you, and his voice is warm and rich, and the lullaby, as you come to learn it, is sweet and strong, just like his people.

Maybe, if you can, you’ll retire here, someday.

_“The sun will rise, the sun will rise, the eternal sun will rise_

_The dawn brings joy, the dawn brings peace, the eternal sun fills the skies._

_The eternal sun still guides us, it guides us on our way_

_It guides us every morning, it guides us every day._

_The eternal sun will never set, never set on you or I,_

_The eternal sun will ever shine o’er the land of the Sin’dorei.”_


	3. Chapter 3

You could lay on your back for hours here and watch the clouds go by.

Mulgore is so beautiful, with its long green grasses, strange mountain ranges, and its peaceful people. Part of you wonders if you had been born a Tauren instead, how you’d look at the world. They seem to want to _be_ a part of this planet, instead of hold it in their hands.

Sometimes, you wonder if they’ve got the better outlook.

Laughter turns your head. A few Tauren children are playing with an older boy, playing some sort of game with nets on sticks, and a ball being thrown back and forth. Amused, you sit up to watch, and end up picking grass out of your hair for a while before they get called up for dinner.

Guess that’s your cue, too.

The elevators here make your stomach turn over - you have to close your eyes when you move up and down or else you’ll throw up, but if you don’t get your balance you’ll fall off and die - so you tend to take the long, long way up the stairs whenever possible. Or just toss yourself on a nearby wind rider.

Thunder Bluff proper feels small in comparison to Orgrimmar, but you like it. You did prefer the Valley of Spirits when you wanted to feel calm and relax a little bit more. You’ve packed your boots into your bag and are walking around barefoot most of the time - it feels nice and hey, you have smaller shoes for when you go inside someone’s home.

The inn you’re staying at offers mostly small rooms, but the whole city is celebrating this week, so there’s lots of feasting going on. You hesitate to call it ‘partying’, since most of it is specific to Tauren ritual, but it’s definitely something unique.

After the platters of food have been cleared away, everyone starts heading towards a series of buildings set up for that purpose. You’re about to head into one after the crowd, but a young woman turns and stops you.

“I’m sorry,” she says, polite but firm, “but these rituals are for Tauren only. You’ll have to use that one over there.” she gestures to another doorway, without a line of people moving inside.

“All...right.” you take a step to the side and politely watch the others go in. “Why can’t I participate?”

“You can definitely share in the atmosphere,” she nods, still blocking your way in. “But just, in that divided entrance.”

Finally, you turn, and she walks into her section, and you walk into yours.

The temperature changes the minute you get in, and you quickly disrobe and take one of the towels hung over a rack. There’s benches lining the room but you decide to sit on the packed earth instead, near the fire. You can smell some sort of incense burning from the next room, and hear talking in soft tones, but they’ve switched back to their own language and you can’t understand a word of it.

Irritated at being left out, you poke the fire a little, feeling the sweat starting to trickle down your body. You’re left alone in the smaller lodge, your back to the gathering behind you, unable to fully concentrate on doing any of your own meditation.

A shadow falls in the doorway of the lodge, and you look up in surprise to see Baine Bloodhoof there. He lets the hide-curtain fall shut behind him, and comes in to the room properly. “One of the guides told me you were in here by yourself,” his voice is warm and gentle. “I thought to myself, we can’t have that. Not during an important time such as this.”

“Well, if you let me in to the main part, I wouldn’t be -”

“We can’t do that.” he shakes his head, then comes and sits down opposite you, in front of the fire. “Our ancestors taught us how to perform these rituals. They are not written down; they are handed from parent to child, from generation to generation, and differ from tribe to tribe.”

“Why don’t you write them down?” you interrupt, impatient.

“I’m getting to that.” you can see him trying to hide a smile. “When my people joined the Horde, others began to come. They wanted to take part in our rituals. At first we tried. Some were quiet and respectful, but the spirits did not come to them, unless they were Shaman, and even then, they would not speak to them. The outsiders became jealous and bitter, and some would attack us. Some tried - and succeeded - in burning down our sacred spots and desecrating our lands. After Thrall became Warchief, Gallywix even tried to copy our rituals and _sell_ a book of our traditional blessings and prayers…” his brow lowers, darkening. “Being Shaman was seen as ‘cool’ and ‘popular’, everyone wanted to try, even though it is dangerous and one of the most sacred roles among our peoples…”

“I had no idea…” you admit, feeling sad and somewhat horrified at the implications of all that. You had known the humans had little respect for the traditions of the Horde, and though you’ve got a few Goblin acquaintances, none speak well of their leader. “I’m so sorry. I meant absolutely no disrespect.”

“You might have noticed you’re the only one here this week.” His voice is tired, quiet. “When we put our hooves down and said ‘no more outsiders’, people didn’t take it well. They think, if they can’t sit with us, they aren’t allowed to come at all, or that there’s no point.”

“But,” you blurt, “there’s so much to take in, aside from the main rituals, and besides - if I had come here to meditate on something else, I could do that too - it wouldn’t be disrespectful, right?”

“You’re correct.” Baine nods with a smile. “Actually, it was Thrall himself who asked us to build this addition on to the lodge. He wanted a place where others might come and self-reflect, or be guided through their own cleansing rituals of their cultures.”

“I like that. Thrall was a good Warchief.” you pause, then lower your gaze to the fire. “I hope he’s happy now, wherever he is.”

Baine doesn’t respond for a few minutes. Then he looks up at you. “You are not Shaman, so you cannot participate in our rituals, but I can tell you stories, and we can do something similar.”

“Really?” your eyes light up with excitement, and you lean forward, almost singing your chin. As you back away, leaning for a bucket of water to cool down a bit, Baine chuckles and begins sharing some stories. They’re stories you’ve heard before, about Tauren history, and you suppose the more private ones are for his people only, but you still appreciate every word he speaks. When he guides you through meditation - closing your eyes and moving in breathing patterns, listening for things and feeling with your whole body and spirit - you feel transcendent, and even though you’re a warrior, close to the ground, you feel like you’re flying.

When you finally have to open your eyes again, it’s all over and Baine is putting out the fire. You make a sort of complaint-like noise and he just laughs. You’re feeling good, jelly-like and boneless, and he re-wraps you in your towel and picks you up effortlessly, putting you half-over his shoulder like a sleepy cat.

“Mmm, all my stuff’s in here…”

“You can come and fetch it in the morning. Everyone in the next lodge is already asleep.”

“They sleep in there? On the ground!?”

A low rumbling laugh escapes Baine’s chest. “Now, aren’t you glad you have an inn’s bed to go back to?”

“You’re not carrying me to the inn…” you can see it over his shoulder, facing backwards. You turn and poke his horn a little. “Where are we going now?”

“It is too far away and I do not want to wake everyone up.” he says mildly, and you feel a doorway parting behind you as you’re brought inside a building. “You can stay the night here.”

_This is his home_. You smile a little to yourself and close your eyes, and the next thing you know, it’s already morning. The sun is peeking through the partially-open doorway, and you wrap yourself once more in the towel and go hunting for your clothes.

Thunder Bluff seems deserted. Everyone is still mostly asleep, you suppose, and as you grab your things, you spot Baine leaving in an elevator. You sprint off after him, and grab hold of the pole, sliding down to join him.

He seems surprised to see you. Then he starts to laugh again, stepping off with your frazzled-self to the bottom of the bluffs. “Good morning. I wasn’t expecting to see you up so early.”

“I slept really well,” you grin up at him, and he nods.

“I’m glad. Usually after the rituals, people rise mid-day, but I’ve never been able to sleep that long, so I tend to go on patrol and then return.”

“You put me to sleep in your bed last night.” you grin, teasing him as you both start off along the path around the bluffs.

“I did,” he says, easily and freely, looking down at you. “You were already snoring. It seemed harmless enough.”

“Did _you_ sleep in the same bed?” you arch your eyebrow, unable to hide your grin, and he just chuckles again.

“No. I had blankets on the floor.” From the nest you spotted when you left the bed, it’s likely true. His bed wasn’t really big enough for two people, especially if one was a Tauren. “Did you know you snore like a bear?”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you...you scratch yourself more than a coyote!”

“I’ll bet you swim as well as a lynx!”

“You fly like a prairie dog!”

Both of you are too caught up in playfully insulting one another that you don’t realize how close you are until his lips are on yours.

Baine kisses in a way that makes you feel light on your feet. Then again, maybe it’s his arms. Tauren people are so tall, even the hunched-over posture from their top-heavy nature that most males have, keeps them head and shoulders above everyone else.

He backs you up, kissing you, until you feel the wall of the bluff behind you, and from that point, it’s just a frantic mess of touching and moaning and growling. His clothes aren’t complicated and most of them don’t even have to come off, unlike yours. He has you naked an an almost artful way, cupping a breast in his three-fingered hand, kissing your nipples and neck while the other hand slides between your legs.

You’ve heard horror (and exciting?) stories about the size of Tauren males (“ _Taken by the Tauren”_ was one of your favourite Steamy Romance novels last year), but he’s surprisingly un-intimidating, and though he’s much larger than an orc, when he moves inside of you, it’s surprisingly slow and intimate. Tauren women are bigger than you, but not twice your size, so it stands to reason that they couldn’t handle _too_ much more.

Baine is a calm lover for the most part, and you spend most of your time kissing and touching rather than frantically pounding. It wouldn’t work with such a size difference, not to mention you’re both still on your feet. It’s slow, and good, and you can feel every sensation as his cock stretches your pussy to its limits, just on the edge of pleasure and pain, but so, so good, and it takes you so little effort to come that he and you take turns doing it, making you climax around his massive length over and over, until you’re a shivering wreck against the wall of the bluff.

When he comes, he comes so much that it feels like you’re bloated, even though it’s ridiculous - there’s nowhere for it to go but out, and it _gushes_ out when he withdraws, a big white splatter on the grass below you as your knees wobble from the sudden difference in pressure. Thankfully he doesn’t laugh, and instead helps clean you up a little before you both head back to Thunder Bluff proper for the midday meal.

“I’m going to visit again next year, I think.” you look at him with a smile as you ride the elevator, and he holds you steady, so that you can look out over the land without fear of falling off, as you soar ever higher.

“It would be good to see you, brave warrior.” he rumbles from behind you, and you can hear the smile in his voice as you close your eyes and pretend you’re flying.

 


	4. Chapter 4

As you sit on the back of your flight taking you north, you glare once more at the letter in your hands.

_My dearest ho,_

_I have heard of your sexy travels these past few months and am thoroughly impressed. I, too, am a connoisseur of all things in the world of debauchery, and was interested in obtaining your invaluable skillset to my arsenal. I have recently invented a brand-new style of fucking machine, and I need a tester. I thought to myself, ‘who better than the most infamous ho of our generation?’_

_You are therefore cordially invited to Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace to partake in the testing of this brand-new product. Should you accept this offer, you will receive, as payment:_

  * _1 free lifetime pass to Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace_


  * _1 free copy of The Fuckmaster (alpha-test name of the new machine)_



_Looking forward to hearing from you,_

_Yours in hedonism,_

_Jastor Gallywix, Trade Prince of Goblins…_

The letter is halfway full of his titles, but you effectively stop reading there. You crunch it up in your hands a little. _Wait until I get my hands on you, you little scum_ …

The flight point isn’t direct enough to land you there, so you have to slog the last mile on foot across the muddy, rocky terrain of the region. Upon arrival at the so-called Pleasure Palace, it’s flanked with guards and you angrily storm towards them. “Gallywix!”

“Halt! Who goes there!”

“The Ho of Azeroth, apparently!” you yell back, cheeks heating in embarrassment, but if that’s what they’re calling you, you might as well use it against them. “I have a personal invitation from Gallywix himself and you will _let me in_ or I swear I’m going to squeeze you until you pop like an over-cooked hot dog,” you threaten, grabbing at the goblin who’s doing his best to threaten you.

“Lemme see that letter.” another guard demands, and you open it to him. He reads it to himself, snickering, and you growl menacingly, towering over him, reaching for his scrawny little neck - “Fine! Go ahead, go on in! Sheesh, lady, can’t you take a joke?”

The guards part, letting you to the main gate, and opening the doors for you. Navigating the lower levels is a pain, but eventually you make your way into rooms that look more like the pleasure palace you’d assume it would be.

You spot a female goblin dusting something. She’s in a maid outfit. “Where is Gallywix?” you demand, not angry with her personally, but trying to keep a straight face.

“Up on the roof.” she turns to blink at you, looking you up and down. “What are you, one of his new bodyguards?”

“Uh...no. I’m here to test his new fucking machine.” you admit, and she gives you a sympathetic look.

“Honey, you’ve got your work cut out for you. I’ve seen that thing. He’s been workin’ on it for weeks. It’s massive. You ever fucked a Tauren?”

“Oddly enough, yes.”

“Then you might survive the machine.” she shrugs, then turns back to her dusting. “He’s up on the roof. Keep going up the stairs.”

“Thank you.” you go back to the staircase and do a few more laps until you get to the door marked ROOF. Pushing through gets you to a lawn with what looks like a pool and sauna-houses around the outside, even a golf course. “Damn, this guy.”

“Ah! It’s you!” you hear a voice from the pool, and as you look over, you recognize him from posters you’ve seen. The man - the goblin - the legend. “I’ve been expecting you!”

“I’m sure you have.” you roll up the letter and put it back in your bag. “Glad to know my reputation precedes me. I’m not fucking you, though, I don’t care what you pay me.”

“I’m not interested.” Gallywix shrugs, sipping from his cocktail as he floats in an inflatable ring over the water. “I invited you here to test out my latest invention.” he gestures with a lazy thumb to a box on the lawn. “Lemme know when you’re ready and I’ll turn it on.”

“This?” you wander over and start opening the box. It appears to just be covering the structure of this thing. The machine itself is intense-looking - built with one purpose in mind: to fuck the shit out of whomever is inside it. There’s various harnesses with pre-attached dildos, holes and vacuum tubes, and everything is adjustable for the height and weight of the person inside. To be honest, you’re impressed - and already a little horny at the thought of this beast all over you. “And you said I could have it?”

“Yeah. I got mages that can shrink this sucker and make it grow again whenever you want, so you can fit it in your bags.” Gallywix calls over from the pool. “I got the schematics and I can build another one in no time flat, so if you like that one, you can have it.”

“Huh, sweet.” you take another few walk-arounds, getting a feel for how it should look. “Let’s crank this bad boy up. I’m ready to go.”

“Excellent.” Gallywix snaps and a few handlers come rushing out. He doesn’t remove himself from his floatie, just moves over for a better view, and someone sits beside him on the lawn to take notes as the others get the machine ready.

“Would you like to try the anal attachment?” one of the female goblins inquires, as the others start hooking up parts. “I can put a smaller one on.”

“Uh, sure. Might as well get the full experience, right?”

“That’s the spirit.” she beams at you, and though it’s kind of weird to feel it, you let her - and the rest of the crew - do a little prep work on your body, gelling you up and getting things into place. You feel as though you’re getting ready for a rocket launch with the amount of staff around you. Still, the amount of little attachments and things now hooked up to you is already making you wet.

By the time everything is ready, you’ve got a dildo inside your pussy, your ass, and your mouth. You’ve got restraints - comfortable, cushy ones, mostly supportive - around your thighs, ankles, upper arms, and wrists keeping you in place and spread open. Attached to your hips and breasts are some sort of mild vacuum-suckers, focused on your nipples and clit. There’s a few options you didn’t take, like feathers tickling your feet, or a choking device around your neck, because tickling isn’t your bag and you are _not_ trying out a suffocation technique on a machine that hasn’t been tested yet.

Two goblins in lab coats walk you through safety procedures. Both of your hands are holding kill-switches that cut the power to the machine and will stop everything, whenever you want. They demonstrate the motor strength and show you how to control the speed and power of it by pushing with your heels and toes, almost like a motorcycle.

Finally, you’re given the green light, and switch it on.

Everything starts very slowly. The sensation of sucking, and things sliding in and out of you is mild at first, and though it’s a novelty, the lowest setting might actually put you to sleep. The dildo in your mouth is a bit distracting, though, so you pull your head back for now to focus on the other sensations.

Ramping up the power feels good, and the sucking on your nipples and clit feels *really* good. It’s still gentle, but almost like a teasing lover, and you groan a little, squirming to get more comfortable on the various dildos moving in tandem in and out of you. “This should have a mode where you can have one go in and the other out, then switch,” you suggest to one of the nearby goblins who’s furiously taking notes. He nods and scribbles more on his paper.

“The dildos are all based on my dick!” Gallywix laughs from the pool, and you groan a little in annoyance. He’s ruining the experience, so you crank up the power and _whimper_ as the pleasure suddenly triples. The sucking gets stronger, and you whine and squirm as the dildos start thrusting properly now, intense and fast. You can feel how wet you are, with the dildo pulling it out of you, slick and sticky down your thighs. You’re pretty close to coming already, and you manage to breathily tell the staff that. They scribble in their notes, and one of the female goblins comes up and starts inspecting the equipment as you pant and clench and moan and feel your climax coming. As you let go, the machinery continues to fuck you, sucking and fucking and you have to pull the kill switch in your hand so you don’t pass out. Everything immediately stops, seamlessly and perfectly, and you’re left panting, glad for the support of the harnesses, while the technicians work on getting you out.

“Whaddiya think?” Gallywix chomps on his cigar, watching you from his nearby floatie. You try not to notice about how he’s got his hand down his swim trunks. “You think I made a winner?”

“Yeah,” you pant, sliding into a robe they’ve provided for you, and you let the staff ease you onto a pool raft to let you relax. You’re sore in the best ways and feeling exhausted. You’re still on the lawn, so you’re in no danger of drowning, but you’re glad for the comfort of the floatie. One of the goblins in lab coats is going over some questions with you, asking about how you’re reacting, any side effects, and you feel kind of silly that you hadn’t expected them to take such good care of you. This is, after all, a product they want to market. They’re going to make sure it doesn’t punch a hole through you mid-use. That would certainly dry up the market.

One of the other handlers brings you a drink, and it turns out to just be water. “Thank you,” you take a sip, and start to feel a little better as your breathing and heart rate return to normal. It was an intense experience - and one you can’t wait to feel again.

 


	5. Chapter 5

You’ve never been to Undercity before, and now you see why. 

The smell is what hits you first as you take the Wind Rider into the tunnels. You choke, then swallow a few times and try to breathe through your mouth. It’s no good; you can taste it. The stench of...whatever it is in the sewers, and the scent of decaying flesh. 

_ Grin _ , you tell yourself, pulling your lips back in what you hope doesn’t look like an offensive manner.  _ Suppresses the gag reflex _ . 

Once inside though, the smell seems to be a bit better. Perhaps the air ventilation outside the sewer tunnels is better, or maybe there’s enchantments about. Either way, you’re able to relax. It still doesn’t smell  _ pleasant _ , but it’s not going to make you throw up at any second. 

They have a lot of amenities here. Various shops and trainers line the streets - mostly Forsaken, but there’s goblins as well, and plenty of Orcs walking around. They don’t look like they’re here for pleasure, though, so they’re either on business or visiting someone. 

“Psst. Hey. Hey lady,” someone calls to you, and you turn, amused and surprised. “Wanna buy a cockroach? Undercity special cockroaches.” 

“Uh...no, thank you.” you gently take a step back. He looks disappointed, but doesn’t press his sales, instead, turning to try and sell to another passer-by. Shaking your head with amusement, you find the hallway you were looking for and head down past the guards. At the end of the winding tunnel, you emerge into a moderately-lit chamber where Lady Sylvanas is talking to a few of her Rangers. You’re not sure if it’s an inspection or not, but she’s got one of their bows in her hands, fingering the smooth wood and bending it a little. 

One of the Rangers says something and her hands tighten. The bow snaps from the tension and she lashes out, catching one of them by the arm and leaving a heavy laceration. 

“Get out of my sight!” she hisses, as two of the others grab the shocked girl and hurry off with her. The others in the room take a step back, and those whom she can’t see, lean in to whisper to one another. 

Well, it’s now or never. “Lady Sylvanas,” you call gently from your long approach, “Your delivery is here.” 

She turns to you. Her expression isn’t quite pleased, but it  _ is  _ calmer. “You have the supplies I requested from Orgrimmar?” 

“Yes, my Lady,” you remove the box from your bag and pass it to her with both hands. She receives it, opening the packing string with a glide of her sharp bracer, then lifts the lid with her fingertips. A thin, tight smile graces her lips before she nods at you. “Follow me.” she turns and walks off, and there’s not much you can do but hurry after her. 

“Your reputation precedes you.” she glances at you over her shoulder as she opens a door and leads you through it. “Close that and bolt the lock.” 

“I suppose it’s pointless to wonder if I’ll ever break my reputation.” You chuckle very softly and lock the door, then turn to her. This is some sort of inner chamber - not a bedroom, and you wouldn’t have expected that. Who knows if Sylvanas even sleeps anymore, after all. “Still, it gets me in the door.” 

“Especially with this.” she lays the box on a table and hauls out the contents: a beautiful, shimmering golden orb, enchanted. “This will be of great use to me. You serve your leaders well.” 

Huh? “Are you talking about my sexual history or my obedience?” You joke, but the way she looks at you makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. 

“Mostly your obedience. I’d heard rumours, but you’re not nearly as important or as popular as you think you are,” Sylvanas shrugs one shoulder at you before going back to examining her orb. 

“And yet you have me locked in here with you.” You bait her, trying to see what game she’s playing here. “You had me lock the door.” 

“You know and I know what’s in this box could bring down half the world under my control,” she spins the orb in her palm, glowing faintly in the darker room. “I can’t let just anyone see it.” 

“Well, if you’ve had enough of me, Dark Lady, I’ll be taking my leave then.” you turn around and make to reach for the door- 

“Wait.” 

_ I knew it.  _

You hear her sigh in exasperation. “Get over here.” 

With a pleasant smile, you return to her side. She’s shorter than you, and looks angry. She’s adorable when she’s angry. “I live to serve, Dark Lady.” 

“Then get on your knees.” she orders, and you don’t hesitate before obeying. It’s pretty clear what she wants, with her nimble little fingers quickly working to get the tops of her pants off. They come off with a clatter, leaving her naked pussy exposed to the cool air in here. You lean forward and tilt your head back, and she steps over your face, glaring down at you.

You just smile up at her and open your mouth. Sylvanas has very little hair; she’s cool to the touch but not cold. Despite the temperature, you can tell how keyed up she is by how quickly she responds to you. She’s got a tight, sweet little pussy, and you can barely push your tongue inside. A little moan escapes her lips and she clamps a hand over her mouth. You suspect that it’s pride, not fear that she’ll be overheard, since the door was heavy and solid enough to block out the sound. 

She’s leaking all over your face pretty quickly, and when you latch on to her clit and really start to suck, pulling the little nub into your mouth and flicking your tongue over it, she has to lean back against the table, putting both hands on it for balance as she starts moaning and really rocking her hips against you, grinding into your face. 

You bring hands up to her thighs, pulling her lips open and slicking your fingers. She gasps as you slowly push a finger into her, and she makes a noise like it hurts. You quickly pull back and she angrily grabs your hand and shoves it back in, though she grunts and grimaces. 

“My Lady, I don’t want to hurt-” 

“Shut up and get back to work,” she snaps at you, angrily flushed, the tips of her ears twitching in annoyance. “You’re here to do as you’re ordered.” 

A fair point. You lower your mouth and take her clit once more, starting to work your digit inside of her. It’s possible she hasn’t done anything like this in a long time. You didn’t see any male Dark Rangers around, and if the Forsaken even  _ have _ their privates still, they probably run the risk of getting torn off by a vengeful Banshee if she’s displeased. Still, she’s amazingly responsive, really starting to ride your mouth, panting, shaking and losing her balance again above you. You put her on the table and start fucking her pussy properly, and she shudders and kicks and thrashes around you. 

Without warning, she digs her hands into your hair and pushes your head down. You retaliate by dragging your finger out hard, and she  _ screeches _ and comes against you, heels kicking against your back, and you do your best to keep her from falling off the table as her chest heaves. You let your eyes wander up her body, watching her. She’s sweating a little, her bared skin glistening, but her face is still hard, still angry, still looking annoyed. 

“Anything else I can do for you, My Lady?” you inquire, with a few more wet laps to her pussy. 

She shudders, letting her eyes fall shut. You trace the inside of her thigh, the skin there, above where her legplates were attached to her hips. Her expression softens. 

“Not today,” she responds, and when she looks down at you again, it’s surprisingly gentle. Well, gentle for the leader of the Forsaken. “You are dismissed.” 

“Always happy to serve, Dark Lady.” you smile gently, rising to your feet. You’re a little disappointed she’s not going to reciprocate, but this is Sylvanas. What were you really expecting? “Call on me any time.” 

“I may do that.” she says mildly, but she licks her lips and you can’t help but grin as you turn away and head for the door. 


	6. Chapter 6

“This meeting is of the utmost importance.”

As one of the Warchief’s ambassadors and most trusted friends, you stand at Baine Bloodhoof’s side as the Alliance leaders approach. It’s the middle of the night, and one of the guards woke you from a dead sleep, but last-minute deals to prevent a war can sometimes use a smooth touch or better word, and so you slap on your armor and hurry out to where the meeting-place will be. Your beautiful Nightborne wife is still asleep in your bed when you kiss her cheek and slip from the room.

It’s truly incredible how much the world has changed over the years. It seems like just the other day you were setting out on your journey, finally seeing the world the way you’d always dreamed you would. Azeroth is vast, and you’ve criss-crossed every continent, sailed across the friendly oceans, and even stepped foot on other worlds. Yet here, the most important things remain.

Out of the gloom appear a handful of figures, and two familiar faces, a young man carrying a torch and an ancient Draenei lit by the glow from his staff. Behind them is another human woman, in the dark, comfortable leathers of a rogue. She and you make eye contact for a moment, and there’s something familiar about the way she holds herself.

“ _We’ve come to talk_ ,” High King Anduin Wrynn says quietly, and his Orcish isn’t great, but he’s at least making the effort. Baine extends an enormous hand, and the four of them troop into a covered tent together. Every guard stands outside, forming a perimeter, staring uneasily at each other and then out into the foggy shadows of night.

You and the human rogue are the only ones left outside of the tent. You peek inside, but they’re already in heated, furtive discussion. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be inside or not, but surely they’ll invite you if they need you.

“ _My Orc bad_ ,” the woman apologizes to you, shaking her head. “ _No school Orc_.”

“Then you’re lucky I speak Common,” you drawl, and she scowls at you.

“You were going to let me babble my way through nonsense the whole time?”

“Well, I was going to give you a few more minutes and continue to laugh at you in my head, but then I realized it wouldn’t go well for diplomacy.”

“Diplomacy?” she glances inside the tent nervously, biting her lip. You can see age lines on her face; lines of worry but also lines of laughter. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“I think the best have come together,” you gently tug her away from the tent door, letting the flap of canvas fall shut. “You don’t look like a guard.”

“Neither do you.” she tilts her head. “I didn’t know Saurfang had a daughter.”

“He doesn’t.” you shake your head. “I’m more of an...advisor.”

“An advisor, huh?” she considers, then grins a little. “Well, I’m sort of like that, too. An _intimate_ advisor.”

“You’re not going to believe this,” you blink, then laugh. “But I think we’re the two most famous whores in all of Azeroth.”

“Hey, I object to being called a whore,” the older human snaps, her cheeks going red.

You just shake your head and chuckle. “I mean that affectionately.” your mind goes back to Gallywix’s letter. That was _years_ ago, but it still makes you laugh. “I’m semi-retired now, but I guess they called me back into active duty for this.”

“Same here.” the human nods, her blush fading. “I’m not as young as I used to be…” she looks down at herself, frowning, in quiet contemplation for a moment.

“I think you’re lovely,” you wave your hand, “and you must have been stunning back in your day.”

“You’re terrible,” she replies, but grins. “Thank you. Why did you retire, then? You still look so young.”

“I got married.” you beam proudly, thumping your chest. “To the most gorgeous Nightborne woman you’ve ever seen.”

“To be honest, I’m a bit jealous.” she admits. “I thought for certain that the Shal’dorei people would rejoin their Night Elf fellows in the Alliance. But then-”

“Tyrande.”

She nods grimly. “I don’t know if she feels any remorse for it or not, either.”

“Who can say? In any case, the Blood Elves seemed a better fit.”

“Oh right, because of their addiction to magic.” the human perks up. “I’m glad they were able to get the help and support they needed. I’d always wanted to meet a Blood Elf. Talk to them for a while. It was amazing in Dalaran...and now I want to visit my friends, back in their home…”

“You may yet get your chance.” you spot the tent flap opening, and Anduin pops his head out, his ponytail loose over his shoulder. “If they can negotiate some treaties, you might even be able to visit Quel’thelas in the fall. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Please, come in.” he urges the rogue, and you stand up as well. Anduin blinks at you.

“She speaks Common better than I do,” the human laughs, and the High King shrugs, then opens the tent for both of you. You follow her in, and settle beside your Warchief. The human rogue sits opposite you, and smiles warmly.

“We’re looking for ways to explain what we want.” Saurfang notes, looking between the two of you. He repeats everything in Orcish and Common, for the sake of all involved. “Not just to each other, but to begin negotiations with all our peoples.”

“Then you’ll have to be patient,” the rogue wilts a little. “Some people may take longer to agree than others. But, still…” she looks across at you, and smiles, “...I think that the more we talk to each other, they’ll realize they have more in common than they believed.”

“Wise words.” Velen nods. His Common is thickly accented and it’s hard to understand. Asking him to speak Orcish might break his jaw. He looks so ancient and delicate. “We are, all of us, eager and ready to make peace. Some of us, more than others, want all the fighting to end, for the sake of the family...the family we have left.” you can see his eyes flit to Anduin for a second before re-focusing on Baine.

“An end to war…” Saurfang muses. “Some will celebrate. Others will be angry.”

“Let them be angry. We make peace for them, most of all.” you look over at him, tilting your head. “We can make peace without losing honour and strength. We just proved that to ourselves, with how we worked together to defeat the Legion. It’s the same people making war. They might be a harder sell, but I guarantee you - those who made friends and lovers - will want them back.”

The rogue gives you a grateful look, and you reach across the tent - you’re all seated on the floor around a small, enchanted fire - and squeeze her shoulder.

“Today, we are sisters.” you nod.

“Yesterday, we were sisters too,” she points out. “And the day before that, and the day before that. We were _always_ sisters. We just didn’t know it.”

It makes you chuckle, and she grins at you, clasping your arm, squeezing the muscle just like you are on her shoulder.

“ _Aren’t you glad we brought you out of retirement_?” Saurfang murmurs at you in Orcish under his breath, grinning.

Yeah, it was worth it.

It was all worth it.


End file.
